


I'm Addicted

by kompulsivelyKapricious



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Betrayal, Collegestuck, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gangs, Homestuck - Freeform, Humanstuck, M/M, Other, Romance, Sadstuck, Violence, self abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kompulsivelyKapricious/pseuds/kompulsivelyKapricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So you're going to college. Big whoop. Except that you're the only person in your entire fucking family to even make it through high school, let alone get all the way to college. Frankly, there was never enough money to maintain either. Anyway, you're in college. It's a lot like high school, 'cept everyone here is adults and you have to handle your own. No big brother to take down the bullies. And the crushes. Yeah. The crushes suck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. College Bound and Ready to Die

**Author's Note:**

> This story will later contain violence of almost every kind. There will be slightly mature scenes and heavy drug usage. Some scenes may be triggering. Please read if you feel you can read about the aforementioned items, however; if you feel you cannot, I advise you to not read this story, and it is going to be a distressing story for the most part. There will be happy scenes and scenes where there is no abuse of any variety, but not all of the scenes will be clean.
> 
> You have been warned. 
> 
> Please enjoy.

_You’re standing alone in the middle of a dark hallway. You can’t even see your hands; the very hands that you are currently holding in front of your motherfucking face. Why are you even_  here _? You feel like a piece of shit. Your brain is all kindsa twisted and shit and you can barely form a coherent thought. However, you feel this sense of urgency. You_ need  _to be here._

_And for two very important reasons. Both involving your addictions._

A Humanstuck Fanfiction

Rating: T-M: including potential intimate scenes, extreme drug usage, and colorful language.

Pairing: Karkat Vantas/Gamzee Makara

 

* * *

 

 

 

You are standing in the middle of your closet of a bedroom, not entirely sure why you are standing. The barest hint of sunlight is streaming in through the slats in your blinds urging you to believe that it is probably near four or five o’clock in the morning. You wished that you were capable of waking up at a later hour, but years of taking early shifts for work and then school and then back to work, well… you are now practically an insomniac. The idea of sleep is almost laughable. Almost. Almost because you were not quite as incapable of it as some people were.

As incapable as, say, you’re idiot older brother. Actually he really isn’t that big of an idiot; he’s really smart, to be honest. You’re just an asshole. But that isn’t the issue here. The issue is that you’re awake before the sun; there is an obvious problem here. You stretch your arms high above your head, then bend over and touch your toes to stretch your spine. Grabbing your chin you twist your head sharply to the left, sighing in content briefly before twisting it sharply to the right. Your ungodly hour of the morning routine is now complete. You may now proceed to the kitchen for a bowl of cardboard flakes and a bruised apple. If you’re that lucky.

Being as you were not sitting on a nice perch made of ivory and sterling silver with a feather down cushion for your butt, you were pretty much living in a leaking shack. Literally. It was all you and your family could afford, aside from the obvious necessities, like oh, you know, food. The things one may require to sustain life. You reach up, just barely able to grab the box of cereal off of the refrigerator, and walk over to one of four cabinets in the kitchen. You take a medium size bowl from the bottom shelf and pour some cardboard flakes into it. Inside the refrigerator, you plunder around in darkness until you find the milk carton. You shake it and grimace.

The milk has obviously gone bad. You sigh, resist the urge to slam it down on the counter, and pour some water over your cereal. It’s better than eating dry cardboard flakes. You call them cardboard flakes because that’s pretty much what they are, though their actual name is Corn Flakes. It tastes nothing like corn. You wish it did. Corn was sweet, even if only a little. It tasted better than this rubbish.

“Good morning, Karkat.” You refuse to look at the one who spoke to you just then, trying your best to focus on the task at hand. It was bad enough you were eating shitty fucking cereal at the ass-crack of dawn, but now you were being all but forced to interact with another human being?

_Fuck my life._

Seriously, your internal monologue was bad enough. You always think twice before opening your mouth this early in the morning, especially in front of your mother. You suspect it was equally rude to ignore her, but she knows how you get. She is your mother after all. That, or you could just pass it off as being hard of hearing now. You’re still half asleep—in theory—and you haven’t woken up all the way.

“Have you got everything packed and ready?”

The next time she spoke you were suddenly reminded of something amazing and important happening today.  _I’m moving out!_ Yes, and not just any kind of moving—you were going to be going to college. The first member of your family to ever actually make it to college. Suddenly, you feel excitement. You are no longer bitter about waking up before the sun. You’re full of energy and happiness and—

“Mornin’ short stack.”

And then it’s gone. You return to eating your cereal bitterly. “At least you do not have the balls to tell me  _good_  morning, asshat.”

“Karkat, be nice.”

“I am being nice.”

You shake your head and drop your spoon into your bowl. It makes a very annoying metal against plastic sound. As you push yourself away from the table and stand, your brother takes the chair and sits down, crunching down hard against his cardboard flakes, obviously on purpose. All he wants to do is annoy you. All. The. Time. You were about sick of it.

“You’re being a drama queen,” your older brother said in a singsong voice, “as per usual.”

“And you’re being an idiot!” You kick the leg of his chair and storm into the bedroom that you both just so happen to share. It’s the only room this place has, and your mother opted to let you and your brother have it. She slept on the ratty old sofa in the living room. You hated it. All of it.

“Calm down, Karkat, you’re working yourself up over nothing.” You rub your hands over your face and sigh loudly, forcing air from your lungs hard enough to make your sigh sound like a growl. You notice a mirror taller than you that is glued to the adjacent wall, a mere ten and a half feet away. You glare at your reflection; it glares right back at you. Of course it does, but you felt that even though it was your reflection, you were still winning the glaring contest.

“You look like trailer trash.”

You look up from your glaring contest with your reflection to see your brother standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He didn’t look like he was trying to be annoying like he usually was. There appeared to be true concern in his eyes.

“You think I don’t know that?”

He sighed and sat down on your bed beside you. “They might be too big on you, but I’ve got a couple of nice shirts and pants I saved from dad’s closet.” An awkward silence passed between the two of you before he spoke again. “Remember when Mom got kind of desperate and starting pawning off his shit to feed us?”

You nod. It was about five years ago. You were thirteen… it was a month before you were going to be a freshman in high school. Kankri was nineteen then and had already long since dropped out of school to get a job and help pay the bills. It was that time though that Kankri had lost his job; your older brother and your dad had been damn close and you could understand Kankri being upset, but his boss didn’t understand. Your mom became hard up for money and couldn’t hardly get enough to pay the bills, let alone feed the family.

But your dad had a lot of nice stuff from the old days that he’d either stolen in his youth or earned through an ungodly amount of hard work—hard work that probably could be more accurately described as a life’s worth of blood, sweat, and tears. Your mom decided, without really consciously deciding, to pawn it all for money so she would be able to keep you and your brother alive, if only barely. Times were rough for your family back then.

“I’d still look like trailer trash.” You mumble, unable to look at Kankri.

He chuckles. “Well, you’ve got a point, but you’ll be fancy as fuck trailer trash. I scored a suit. We could try and tailor it for you. Here of course. Mom used to sew for a living, you know. Before you were born. She made a bunch of homemade clothes and stuff and sold it all, but people are all into name brand shit now.”

You nod. “You’d let me borrow dad’s stuff?”

“Of course, he was your dad, too.” Kankri gives you an odd look. You shrug and stand.

“We should probably get to work then, shouldn’t we?”


	2. Don't Ask Why, Just Get High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were rich. Everyone who looked at you deemed you as the happy type; the kind of happy where no motherfuckin' wrong could all up and happen, and see, that was kind of it. That's pretty much how it all usually went down, but then there were times when it didn't happen like that you had to do something to change that shit. And this shit performed motherfuckin' miracles, bro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Humanstuck Fanfiction
> 
> Rating: T-M: including potential intimate scenes, extreme drug usage, and violently colorful language (particularly for the Gamzee bits).
> 
> Pairing: Karkat Vantas/Gamzee Makara
> 
> WARNING: To those who may be offended by extreme swearing or particularly offensive cursing, the word ‘GD’ is used multiple times within this specific chapter, and will continue to be used throughout the story. You have been warned.

 

You don’t really know how to describe what you’re feeling right now, but all you know is that you feel motherfucking  _awesome_. There really isn’t another way to say it. You feel all up and floaty and shit. You’re lying on your bed, staring up at the ceiling trying to figure out what all them words mean. Man, you can’t hardly even figure it out. It’s like a foreign language or some shit. Anyway, you feel great. Greater than you’ve felt since the last time you felt great. You tried to count when the last time you felt great was, but you couldn’t really remember, and you also didn’t think you had enough fingers for that. Oh well, all that mattered was that you felt great now.  _Man_ , it was like you were floating on a cloud or somethin’. You just couldn’t get over it.

You laughed under your breath and turned your eyes away from the ceiling long enough to catch your reflection in a floor to ceiling mirror. You have this stupid grin plastered to your white and gray painted face, and your eyes are bloodshot as  _fuck_. You couldn’t be floatin’ on no clouds, man… you were flyin’ _high above them motherfuckin’ clouds, man_. You laughed again, louder this time. You were all warm inside and not a motherfuckin’ thing could all up and ruin your good mood.

“GAMZEE!”

Never mind.

Your reflection loses that stupid ass grin quick, replaced by a neutral expression sitting closer to the frown side of no-man’s-land. That voice twisted your insides like… like… well, something that twisted your insides. You didn’t want to interact with those fools right now, man, you felt good. Or you did. Now you really wanted to throw up. You know, that tight feeling in your stomach that made your dinner uncomfortable enough to want to leave it's cozy home in your stomach. And it would give you a real good excuse to not have to go downstairs and see what the  _fuck_ they wanted this time.

It was always different; such  _pressing_ issues to attend to. You hated it. You always wanted to scream and destroy everything when they told you to do all that stupid ass shit, but hey, ya know they were your ‘rents, how could you just all up and say no?

YOU COULDN’T.

You slide your hands up and down the sides of your face, not caring about the fact that you were smearing the shit out of that day old paint all over your face and hands, making it look worse than it already did. You weren’t  _prepared_ for this shit. You father always came home late from work or some shit, claiming he had lots to do or whatever. It was whatever. Because when you got home from school man, you did the shit you had to do man, and then you were flyin’ again.

And then there were days like these.

“BOY, DON’T MAKE ME GO UP IN THERE AFTER YOU!”

“I’LL BE DOWN IN SECOND, MOTHERFUCK,” you screamed back, launching yourself out of your bed, stumbling as you walked towards the door, “CALM YOUR FUCKING TITS.”

You ran down the spiraling stairs as fast as you could without killing yourself. You stumbled a few times, but you were holding the rail really motherfuckin’ tight, so you didn’t die or anything. Everything was good until you reached the bottom of those stairs. Good because the instant you were within arm’s reach, your father smacked you so hard across your face the stars you saw were seeing stars. Man, that wasn’t fuckin’ cool at all.

“You will not talk to me like that, Gamzee. I am your father and you will respect me.”

You snorted, rubbing your left cheek and stumbling a little. Your legs were warm and felt kinda like Jell-o. It wasn’t a bad feeling you thought, but it would have been better if you were laying in your bed, preferably upside down. You tilt your head back slightly and try to glare at your father, but all you wanna do is laugh. Fuck, you were gonna get hit again if you didn’t wipe that goddamn smirk off your face.

“I’m adult now,  _daddy_ ,” your words slur ever-so-slightly, but your father is so worked up he barely even notices. “I can all up and do as I  _mothafuckin’ please._ I’m leavin’ today, and you should know that I ain’t comin’ back!” You laugh a little and then sober up slightly, just enough to become serious. “Oh, never mind, I’ll come back. You’ll just all up a miss me too motherfucking much, and BUT MOTHER FUCK." You pause and lean against the rail of the stairs. "We can’t have that now, can we?”

Your father looks at you, absolutely disgusted. “You’re a disgrace to the family name.”

“Maybe,  _pops_ ,” you snicker, “but hey, at least you have to admit I’m not the worst one. Kurloz can’t even fuckin’ talk! It’s the only goddamn reason that you would rip the planet apart to find me if I left.” Suddenly, you weren’t amused anymore. You were angry again. “Who’s the real fuckin’ disgrace here, huh? Your art major, good for nothing, drug doin’, lazy ass, GODDAMN SON… or your mute one? The one who either can’t or will not talk…”

He did not answer you. You shook your head. “And I’m the disgrace…” you turn and begin walking towards the front door that was already open, a man on the other side waiting patiently for you to get inside his car so he could take you back to school. Your favorite chauffeur. You never really could remember what his name was, but he didn’t mind you calling him Sebastian. In fact, you thought he liked it ‘cause of his stupid ass grin whenever you said it.

“See ‘round, daddy-o…” you laughed and slid into the backseat of the car. The door was closed. “Or maybe no.”

_Heh… HoNk. :O)_


End file.
